


Ghostwriters in the Sky (or What the Hell Happened?)

by Cackymn



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Comfort/Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Halloween, Humor, Implied Slash, Love, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Parody, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Tony Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6887665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cackymn/pseuds/Cackymn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A surrealist comic parody wrapped around a love-letter to the many faces of Tony! It's also a pretty hard slap at the show's writers. ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghostwriters in the Sky (or What the Hell Happened?)

**Author's Note:**

> As first seen in the autumn of 2015 on lj. Some of you have seen this but I expect some haven't. I wanted it up on here well before the S13 finale but I didn't quite make it. Anyway, enjoy!

Ghostwriters in the Sky (or What the Hell Happened?)  
******************************************************

“Vance did what?”

“He banned costumes. No Halloween costumes on duty this year.”

Though officially he hated Halloween, Tony was disappointed. Field agents couldn't work in costume, but Tony would miss seeing other people all dressed up.  Halloween was human psychology writ large, and Tony was curious about the way people saw themselves.

"Did he say why?"

"Zombies."

"Really? Wow."

"Yep. In fact I'm pretty sure I  heard him say 'Enough with the zombies already.' "

"Sure you did." Tony wrinkled his brow. "I see you've got your personal exception all figured out. A whole day early."

McGee was wearing a cream turtleneck and tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches. His writing pipe sat in a carved holder on his desk, his typewriter from home on a small table beside him. He smiled. 

"Not recognizably a costume, Tony. Definitely not a zombie."

"I admire your guts, McConanDoyle, but Gibbs will hate it." 

"He won't, Tony. Gibbs likes everything about me."

"That's gross, and no he doesn't. Gibbs doesn't like everything about anybody. Or anything about everybody, or anything about anyb..."

"Nice jacket, Tim."

Tony whirled at the sound of Gibbs' voice, at his words. 

"Glad you're using the pipe-holder I made you."

"Hey Boss," Tony began. "I finished that canvass..."

"Leave him alone, DiNozzo."

"I wasn't..."

"Shut up. Tim, I like the typewriter too. Old-school." 

Gibbs disappeared up the stairs as Tony tried to hide his hurt from McGee and Bishop. Ellie looked at him worriedly from her desk.

"What will you go as, Tony?" She offered. "Tomorrow, after work, for Halloween?"

Nothing, Bish. I'm not really in the mood."

McGee stroked the return lever of his typewriter. To Tony, the contraption gleamed malevolently, a harbinger of doom. 

"Just go as yourself, Tony," Tim said with a slight sneer. "How hard can _that_ be?"

************

The next morning, October 31st, Tony stood in front of the mirror. He'd get through  Halloween, and he'd find a way to forget about the rest. He lathered his face, raised his quadruple-bladed platinum razor to his cheek...and missed.

Tony gaped into the mirror as his steady hand was eluded by a young and hairless chin. He saw lips fresh and innocent on one side, wry and knowing on the other. His hairline was uneven, and the eyes that met his belonged to anyone he had ever called Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. Everyone he had ever been stared back at him, changing faster than he could remember them.

 _"Just be yourself, Tony. How hard can that be?"_ Those were the last words he had heard from another living soul the night before, mere hours before Halloween, a Halloween in which he'd announced he wasn't participating. 

Trembling, he turned away and grabbed a towel. He scrubbed it over his face and mustered his considerable will. He was used to assembling himself, to some extent or another, almost every day of his life. There had been times  it had been a struggle, and surely this was just one of those times. Truth was, he'd been pretty whole since he'd found his way to NCIS under the secure if formidable wing of... Oh, no. He couldn't go to work this way. Not many people in Tony's life knew he was made up of parts, but Gibbs was one of them, and there was no way he could face Gibbs like this. The way the Boss seemed to feel about him lately, Tony felt certain that rather than take him home and cook him a steak, Gibbs would fire him out-of-hand. Tony would not allow it. _Anthony,_ he told himself. _It's make-or-break. You get this right or you call in sick._

Painfully slowly, determination almost making him ill, Tony turned back to the mirror. Coherent features greeted him from within the glass. He sighed with relief and vowed never again to let himself be spooked by Halloween, by changing relationships at work, by trespassing typewriters, or by anything else. 

6:45 a.m., and Tony was shaved, dressed, and rejoicing to the aroma from his pre-programmed coffeemaker. He walked confidently toward his kitchen, only to spot Gus Bricker sitting at his living room table.

"Oh, shit."

***********  
"You should have known that was too easy," Gus said. He held Tony's gaze for a few seconds. He faded into evanescence and then into solidity again, and somehow Tony understood exactly what was going to happen. 

"Can I at least get some coffee?"

Gus nodded. "Please do."

Returning from the kitchen, Tony remained standing and raised his eyebrows at Gus. Now that it was happening, cracking up didn't seem so scary. He'd long been aware of the possibility, and he was on pretty good terms with the cast of characters in his head, or in this case, his apartment. He looked around as his separate selves began to shimmer into existence within the room, Gus calling roll. 

"Tolster." Gus announced. A very hot young man in jeans, black turtleneck, and shoulder-holster stood to Tony's right.

"Buckeye." An earnest youth in Ohio State jersey and sweats flopped onto the couch, and Gus grinned at Tony. 

"Skippy!" A confident-looking agent in a plaid shirt popped out of the air next to Tolster, and Tony recognized their kinship. They exchanged glances and smirked at him. They were both agents, the first born a cop, the second, Skippy, named by Gibbs. They were both him, Tony knew, nearest and dearest to his core identity. He smiled back at them, but his smile dimmed as a thin young boy took shape on the couch, all arms and legs, defiant chin, and sad, lonely eyes.

"Wait just a minute...!" Tony began angrily.

"Little Orphan Anthony," Gus said quietly. 

"Don't you dare..." 

"I need to clear something up here," Gus interrupted. "I didn't call this meeting, Anthony DiNozzo. You did."

"Then why are you running it?" Tony demanded.

"It's simple, actually. You created me, but I'm not you. I can be objective."

"It's not worth it," Tony ground out. "I'm calling it off!"

"That's more complicated," Gus said. "You can't call it off. Something is wrong, and now that this has begun, you can't stop it until that thing has been confronted and addressed to the best of your ability." 

"Because...?"

"Because you weren't in the mood. You wouldn't put on another mask, even for one night, maybe for the first time ever. That makes this your Halloween."

"You're right, that is complicated," Tony muttered. "And so not fair." 

"It's your chance to fix things, Tony. You're reacting to events, but you don't control them. They won't line up this way again."

"So, we proceed," Gus went on, and the others nodded, Buckeye putting an arm around Little Orphan Anthony.  

"Where are Goofball and Movie Buff?" Gus asked.

"What?"

His other selves looked at him encouragingly, and Tony found it impossible to disappoint them as he so often did when they vied for attention in his head. He sighed.

"Goofball and Movie Buff are sleeping it off. They're exhausted." 

"Interesting..."

"I don't wanna lose those guys. They're my..."

"Friends?"

"Yeah."

"Good. What about Sex Machine?"

Tony shuffled his feet, and after a long and miserable pause mumbled,  "He's on strike. Sex Machine is on strike."

"Is that healthy?" Buckeye protested,  and Tolster and Skippy laughed their approval.

"Can you blame the guy?" Tony grouched. "Look, all the sudden  we're in a 'committed relationship' with someone nobody's ever heard of!  What's up with that?"

"You tell me, Spider."

"Not funny." 

"But 'we' are getting somewhere now, aren't we? Sex Machine has alters of his own. Same story?"

"Pretty much."

"Spanky?" 

"Zoe doesn't get Spanky. Can you believe she expected _us_ to cuff _her?_ That's just too weird."

"Good enough. Honeybuns, then." 

"Honeybuns hasn't seen any action since...wait, should the kid be hearing this?" 

"Not a problem. Your inner child hears with his heart." 

Sure enough, Little Orphan Anthony snoozed against Buckeye's side.

"Since we dated that cheerleader," Buckeye whispered with a grin, and all the adult eyes swung his way.

"Well, no, sometime after that," Tony admitted, "but damn it was fun telling Senior about Chris, wasn't it? I don't think Dad was ever more proud in his life. What was  Chris's real name?"

"Kevin."

"Ahem. We need to finish up here, Tony. What about Loverboy?" Gus asked with a stare.

Tony hung his head. "Don't bother."

Buckeye's brows went up, Tolster rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and Skippy looked positively offended. "That does it. I'm going with you."

"Where?"

"To work."

"Omigod!" Tony started scrambling. "I'm probably an hour late!" 

Gus eyed the clock. It still read 6:45. "It's Halloween, Tony. There will be forces arrayed against you. Do you know what this is about now?"

"Yeah. I guess I always did."

Do you know what you need to do?"

"Not really."

All his alter-egos, including the boy, were alert and looking at him. Skippy stepped forward. "We'll figure it out when we get there," he said. He put his hands on Tony's shoulders and stepped into his skin.

***********  
Tony was first in by half an hour. McGee arrived and approached him.

"Tony, about yesterday..."

"What about it?" 

"Notice I ditched the writer outfit. And the pipe."

"Fine. Whatever. Don't feel sorry for me, McGee. I hate it."

"I don't mind, Tony. I can see why you'd resent being taken down a peg...or two...or three."

Tony gritted his teeth. "First of all, McReplacement, you have no idea of my capacity for resentment. Do you know why? Because I'm a professional. I don't take it personally. Second, you should very, very grateful for that."

McGee opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off. "Third," Tony unclenched his jaw, searched Tim's eyes, and asked in all sincerity, "doesn't something seem off to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Gibbs, for one thing. He used to care about all of us, or at least he kicked our asses equally. Now he's in love with you and in hate with me. Did I do something wrong? No, I didn't."

"Tony, what are you talking about?"

"Motivations, McGemcity. Work with me. Why would my Boss and my partner want to take me down? We're supposed to be a team, a family even. Honestly, McGee, what do you think?"

"I think that's crazy talk, Tony."

"Are you sure? Pay attention."

At that moment, Director Vance strode out of his office and announced, "I don't like this anymore than you do, Gibbs." He stepped backward and slammed his door. 

"So?" Tim asked.

"He's been doing that every five minutes! And where is Gibbs?"

"He's right behind you."

"Dead Marine in the Anacostia!"

"I'm telling you, Tim, there's something wrong with everybody."

"Bishop doesn't think so." 

"She's too new to understand." Tony looked at Ellie. Her eyes were crossed. "Yikes!" Tony yelped. 

"You got something to say, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss, nothing to say. Just having a word with McGee here."

"Dead Marine in Rock Creek Park! Tim, you've got point."

"Boss, McGee is a great agent, but you or I take point unless there's a reason. Chain of command."

"Tony!" Tim cried. "What are you doing!"

"Dead Marine at Quantico! Grab your..."

"Gibbs!" Tony took his life in his hands and grabbed not his gear but Gibbs' arms. 

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs? I'm Tony DiNozzo, your Senior Field Agent," Tony said, releasing him. "I'm your friend. Stop being a robot."

Gibbs' stare was flat and cold. He looked like a lizard.

"Remember when I had the plague? You wouldn't let me die. Remember when you cooked me steak every time I got blindsided by my dad?"

"Senior," Tim sighed. "Nicest guy in the world."

"Remember when you depended on me, Boss? Remember when you  trusted me? Anytime?" 

A glimmer of comprehension, a hint of memory, showed in Gibbs' eyes. Vance emerged again like clockwork.

"I don't like this any more than you do..."  This time Vance marched down the stairs, accompanied by a tap-tap-tap.

"Oh, boy. Did anybody else hear that?"

"I heard it," Gibbs admitted.

"It's gonna get ugly, Boss."

_...forces will be arrayed against you..._

Fornell wafted through the elevator doors and slouched toward Tony. "Holy Fourth of July weenie roast!" he whispered criminally, as Abby clomped into their midst, stiff-legged and wide-stanced, listing from side to side.

"Gibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbsgibbs......"

Outside on the grounds the ghost of Mike Franks took pot-shots at passerby. Ziva was there too, near the coffe-cart.

"Tony, stop being such a child!" she cried again and again, even though she was fornicating with Adam.

"Boss...come on. Stay with me...you can do it..."

Palmer darted by, stammered incoherently, ran around in circles, and fled.

"This reminds me of a time in Edinburg, in my youth," Ducky intoned.

"What does!?"

"I'll know more when I get him on the table." 

"Would it be asking too much," Tony said with a supreme effort, "for someone around here to make sense?"

They were closing in on him.

"Jet's fueled and ready, DiNozzo," Vance declared. "You have three minutes to get to the Finnish border. Sergei will be standing in the middle of the road."

"See what I mean!" Tony sought Gibbs' eyes, but the lizard was back.

"Who the hell are you?" Gibbs snapped.

"No, Boss, no..." Tony sobbed quietly.  He sank to one knee. His face fell slowly toward his hands as Senior's smiling bulk filled the plasma, wielding a flaming oven mitt.

"There...it...is...!" Senior wheezed in slow motion. "There's the look Gibbs was talking about!" 

Tony gaped at the apparition in pure hatred, wounded to the core. 

Zoe appeared with a key in her hand. "I found it in his moisturizer drawer!" Senior grappled with her for the key. It flew out of her hand and into the fishbowl where it was swallowed, Jaws-style, by Kate.

"Should I be calling 9-1-1?" Zoe screeched after an unnatural pause.

Tony stood up in Kate's honor, just as he noticed  McGee's old Smith-Corona typing by itself.  Fine cracks began forming all around them, in the very atmosphere. 

"It's not your fault, Probie," Tony muttered sadly to McGee, who if slow to suspicion was at least not fond of being used. When Gibbs began barking out angry retorts, Tony's desperation turned to rage.

"Snap out of it!" he growled loudly into Gibbs' ear. 

The typing continued, and Gibbs turned on him, snarling. "You got a problem with it, DiNozzo?" 

"Yes!  Yes, yes, a THOUSAND TIMES YES!!"

The din of clacking keys reached an impossible crescendo as Tony whirled and swept the machine to the floor, emptying his Sig into it for good measure.

"NO!" everyone yelled at once, and the filamentous air shattered and turned to snow.  
                                         

**********************

Tony lurched blindly. Gibbs fell to the floor with a bullet in his shoulder. Tony's eyes pierced the gloom by force of will alone. He held an oxygen mask to Gibbs' mouth, and the older man's eyes cleared, only to fill with confusion. He pushed away the mask.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs sat up, his back against the front of his desk.

"Boss?"

"I've been treating you like shit for a long time."

"I know."

"Thing is, I can't think of a logical reason why."

Tony sighed heavily. "No one can."

"We're never in the same place at the same time..."

"And all along I've never wanted to be anywhere but on your six. It's been hell."

Gibbs appeared, at long last, to give that statement the consideration it deserved. Then a horrible thought crossed his face, and he whispered it aloud.

"Tony, was I supposed to be pissed at you for falling in love with Zi...?"

Tony drew a huge, frustrated, never-ending breath. 

"Why won't anyone BELIEVE me!" he wailed.

And nothing happened. There was only blessed quiet. 

Ducky, Fornell, and Vance trailed off, led away by a fluffy cloud. A sheer, pale rainbow took shape over the mezzanine. Bishop's eyes uncrossed, Gibbs' bullet hole shrank to nothing, and Abby and McGee lay in a corner, making snow angels. 

Gibbs reached out. He seized Tony by one wrist and held. His eyes tracked backward across the years, and he swallowed hard before speaking.

"Tony? Listen to me. Are you listening?"

"Listening, Boss."

"Can't believe I forgot."

Tony waited.

"Forgot I loved you. I love you, Tony."

Tony gasped brokenly. "Are you talking about Boss-love, Boss?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Well there's Boss-love, friend-love... I guess it's open to interpretation, though you wouldn't know it from the way some people..."

"I always loved you, DiNozzo. Nothing else matters."

Gibbs' firm voice and self-satisfied nod gave Tony hope he hadn't felt in years.

"Does this mean we can be a family again?"

"Yep. This is our place. Our team. And you're not just one of the kids."

"I think I could kiss you right now, Boss."

"Well then make it count, Skippy."

Tony got his wish, and he took an extra minute getting lost in icy blue eyes. He grabbed Gibbs by the armpits and hoisted him to his feet.

"Where are you taking him?" nobody asked, and the orange walls glowed happily. 

Tony grinned into Gibbs' smirk.

"I thought we could go down to the basement. Have a couple drinks. You know - catch up? Be done with dead Marines for a while." 

                                    ***********************

Later, after bourbon, after talk of sailing ships and St. Bernards, after long, contented silences, after still more talk of nothing in particular, Tony left the basement to use the head. He exited the bathroom to find he was not alone.

Grateful green eyes met his on every side, and he quickly ushered the crowd into the living room.

"Well done," Gus Bricker said. "You fixed it."

"I don't know," Tony replied. "I don't know if I actually did anything."

"But now we have a chance to find out," Skippy admonished.

"Even if we don't know what tomorrow will bring," Tolster warned.

"Gotta stay in the moment," Buckeye reminded them.

"The man is nice!" Little Orphan Anthony piped in joy.

"That he is," someone purred from a corner, and they all turned to see Sex Machine push away from the far wall with one shoulder. He sauntered forth from the shadows as Gibbs appeared at the edge of the room.

"I talk to myselves," Tony stated.

"I can see that." 

Goofball and Movie Buff laughed. Little Orphan Anthony clapped his hands, and Tony caught him up in a fierce hug, only just managing to hold back tears. 

"Thanks, gentlemen. You too, kid." Tony whispered. The child squirmed free and ran to Gibbs with a smile. Gibbs chucked the little boy under the chin and ruffled his hair. Satisfied, the boy began to shimmer.

"Nope!" Gus called out. "We'll do this the right way. You enter a man's house, it's only respectful to leave by the door."

"Okay, Mister!" 

Goofball and Movie Buff waved goodbye. They left with Gus, who ushered them grandly through the doorway with a wink. Buckeye followed them into the warm and welcoming night, the boy in his arms.

"We should be going, too..." Tolster caught Skippy's eye and together they glared at Tony, who only then noticed that Gibbs had locked eyes with Sex Machine.

"Holy shit!" Tony panicked. "You can't leave me now!"

The two backed away, hands aloft, laughing.  "Yes, we can!" "I think this is _his_ gig!" "Good luck, Honeybuns!" "See ya later - don't do anything we wouldn't do!" And then they too were out the door and into the ether. Tony turned back to Gibbs.

"This is a surprise, Boss!"

Sex Machine snorted, and Gibbs moved in on Tony. His eyes were incredible.

"He stayin'?" 

"He's me. He can stay anytime."

"Was hopin' you'd say that." 

When the two became one, Gibbs grinned deliciously.

"I think we left off somewhere around here, Tony. A long time ago. What the hell happened?"

"Let's not talk about it anymore," Tony said, and so they didn't.

**************************

With a loving farewell to the inimitable Tony DiNozzo and the fearless Michael Weatherly. Words will never suffice.


End file.
